


Punishments

by CheekyDoodles



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Loud Sex, M/M, Master/Servant, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyDoodles/pseuds/CheekyDoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin have a strange relationship, and an even stranger idea of what punishments are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punishments

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for my friend who got me into Merlin (her tumblr [here](http://the-floral-dragon.tumblr.com/)).  
> I just needed to write a quick smut for these two, and I may write other parts and make this work part of a series.

" _Merlin_!"

It's a lovely day, as far as days go, Arthur thinks. The sun shines bright on the citadel's walls, streams in buttery rays through his lattice chamber window. Right about now he should be _feeling_ the sun, in the sport field, training with his fellow knights. But the pile of armor on his dining table is still - _still_ \- ruined from yesterday. The poppy-red dust of dried blood from an unfortunate Gwaine still flecks off a portion of his chainmail. Grievously unacceptable. And gross.

Arthur's chamber door opens for Merlin to slide through (the skinny little clotpole) and shut it behind. "You so very gracefully called for me, sire?" He asks, folding his hands behind his back.

"Ah yes," the Prince says cheerfully. "I'm glad you could make time in your busy schedule to come and see me."

Merlin shrugs. "Oh you know me; I just love your special company."

Arthur could just pluck the smug, barely there curve off of his lips. It makes his stomach flip as much as his irritation flare. "Mhm," he purses his lips. "Did you happen to, oh I dunno, forget something yesterday? Something you typically do everyday?"

The little prat's blue eyes wander about the room, thinking. "Uhm," he says intelligently. Then he snaps his fingers, "Oh that's right: I forgot to pick the herbs for Gaius' potion! No wonder he was so cross with me this morning. I wonder if--"

Arthur flings the nearest thing he can reach, a pillow, at his servant, making him duck. "Merlin! Look at the table," he points and blue eyes follow the direction. "Do you not wonder _why_ I'm not training right now? It's because some little _prat_ forgot to clean my armor yesterday."

Merlin's face falls immediately, his mouth parting with the realization. "Oh. Right. Uh, sorry sire."

"Oh, you're ' _sorry_ '?" Arthur mimics, stepping to him slowly. "That's all you have to say for keeping me from my training? I swear I haven't the faintest idea of how you keep that empty bucket of a head on your shoulders! And it's not only this, you've been consistently irresponsible for a week-- no, I'd say about two weeks, isn't that right?"

He'll admit (albeit begrudgingly, and never aloud) Merlin is the best servant he's ever had. And there have been plenty servants that have been much more punctual, but it's more than that. Sure, he could do without the boy's random absences, dopey facial expressions and general forgetfulness, but Merlin has a sort of redeeming quality... He doesn't know what he'd call it. Wisdom? Eccentricity? His dopey smile? Whatever it is, it's always there. It's there when he sees Merlin pass through the castle corridors, when he hears Merlin's reassuring footfall close behind. It levels him, gives him the chance to deflate, to laugh.

His favorite are the mornings when he wakes up before Merlin enters his chamber. Right around when the pastel tinge of morning sneaks through the cracks in the curtains, Merlin steals into his chambers as quiet as a mouse that thinks it's being quiet but it's really not. Arthur will watch him through his eyelashes, pretend he's still asleep for the sake of watching the boy move about the room, setting breakfast on the table. This way he's caught Merlin peeping at him, even sitting on the edge of his bed for a spell before flinging open the curtains to sing, "Rise and shine!". So Arthur has to pretend to awake and stretch, the whole bit. He's gotten pretty good at faking yawns.

Arthur stops right before his favorite servant and keeps his gaze steady. He can smell Merlin whenever their proximities merge, superficial tang of sweat over the pleasant astringent of the herbs and potions in the Physician's abode.

"How do you think it looks," he continues, "when the King's son carries himself around with wrinkled robes, crudy boots and armor stained with blood?" He asks, scooping up the chainmail and dropping it again with a heavy clatter.

Merlin throws his gaze on the floor and rubs the back of his neck when he replies, "Not very good, sire. I'll get started on it right away."

"Indeed," Arthur says, beginning to piece together an idea of sorts. "You're aware I'm going to have to punish you."

"Oh don't I know it," Merlin says cheekily, smirking again as he makes for his forgotten chore.

"Mhm," Arthur hums. "And I think... I'm going to carry your punishment out right now. So it's fresh in that 'dollop-head' of yours."

Merlin scoffs. "Come on, we both know _you're_ the dollop-head here," he tries to joke, but it fizzles out due to the look Arthur is giving him.

"Close the door."

Merlin gives him a look but meets his demand anyway.

"And lock it." He hears Merlin click the lock and he turns on his heel, his sweet, questioning expression still plaguing his face.

"Now," Arthur says, flurries of excitement prickling his stomach. "Get on the bed."

Merlin's eyes widen slightly before he visibly steels himself, though he can't stop the pink blooming over his face as he slowly steps to Arthur's grand bed and begins crawling to the center of it.

"Hey take your boots off first, I won't have dirt and who knows what else on my bed," Arthur scolds. "And remove your tunic, while you're at it."

Merlin complies, dropping his boots over the bed's edge, followed by his usual brown tunic. He lies on his back as his prince further instructs, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Arthur follows his servant's trail, lingering at the edge of his bed to enjoy the precious, full-body blush spreading over Merlin's body.

"Wh-what are you," Merlin swallows again, fidgeting over the bedspread. "What are you going to do?"

Arthur takes his time with climbing onto the bed and straddling Merlin's thighs, feeling the muscles twitch when they pinch together. "I'm going to punish you," he says simply, pushing Merlin's blue shirt up his chest to reveal his stomach. He brushes his warrior-rough fingers over the skin, white as milk, and Merlin tightens up with a heavy shiver.

"I mean, how so?"

This isn't the first time Arthur has punished his personal servant in this way. It began with their usual casual touches evolving to search out something more. Something like a hot hand on an equally hot neck, like heavy heads pressed together in candle-lit corridors, like lips on ears. Merlin never protests his punishments once they begin, only asks Arthur what he's going to do. Arthur thinks he likes to hear him say it.

"Well first," Arthur exhales, looking his servant over. The prince pushes Merlin's shirt up all the way to his neck and circles his thumbs over the pink buttons of his nipples. "I'm going to make you squirm. So I want you to stay still."

The day Arthur found out Merlin was so sensitive was a fun one, to say the least. Now he always makes a point to tease him. Merlin hisses through his teeth, his legs disobediently straining against the hold of Arthur's stronger ones.

Arthur grabs his servant's chin, squeezing the bone. "I said _stay still_. I won't tell you once more," he warns, releasing his grip. "Understood?"

Merlin shoots him a dark look as he works his jaw. "Yes, sire."

"Good."

The sour expression doesn't stay long. Arthur cups the back of Merlin's neck and drops his blonde head. He nips at the flesh over Merlin's collarbones, sucking just enough to be sure red blossoms will bloom under his necktie later-- their little secret. Merlin trembles under his prince, trying his hardest not to move and Arthur hides his grin in the crook of his neck. Still smiling, he drags his bottom lip down the path of goose-pimple flesh to a nipple and rolls it between his teeth gingerly.

Arthur's little trick breaks Merlin's control, his back lifting off the bed like his tethering strings have snapped. “ _Prat_ ,” he gasps out. "That's not-- _fair_."

"Ah ah ah," Arthur voices, teeth still busy. He flattens his tongue over the now red button, soothing it with cool saliva. He says, "It's perfectly fair," and waits for Merlin to relax before he holds the other nipple between his knuckles, creating the same effect.

Arthur is actually impressed when Merlin doesn't react to the touch, apart from his heavy, broken breath stirring the hair on the crown of Arthur's head. Merlin's hands are fisted in the bedclothes, knuckles translucent. He'll let him have that, for now.

Arthur gives Merlin's neck an affectionate little squeeze before dragging his hand down past his navel to the worn edge of his poor trousers, testing the hem. Tilting his head down, Arthur can see how hard his servant is already, a conspicuous tent in his trousers. He places another kiss on the seesawing chest beneath him then snakes his hand under the hem of his servant's pants. Arthur finds his length under his palm, hard and heated in a recognizable way.

Arthur's heart thrums in his chest, the way it only ever does when he's in the midst of a duel or kissing Merlin's petal-soft skin (he thinks he much more prefers the latter). This is the first time he's ever touched Merlin like this-- well, skin to skin. They usually knead each other through their clothes with a palm or knee for whatever position they find themselves in. It's mostly like this though: Arthur leads their play and on their down time Merlin makes it his sole duty to discourse Arthur's brain with sly, knowing smiles and touches that make Arthur blush in public situations like a fragile-hearted lady.

With just Arthur's palm pressed into Merlin's cock, Merlin makes a guttural sound and jerks up into the touch. " _God_ ," he groans out.

Arthur takes that as a confirmation to go ahead and start moving his palm up and down in jerky ovals, compliments to the awkward bend in his arm. He admits Merlin's movements and noises for a minute, enjoying them immensely. Arthur watches Merlin's eyes flutter open when he puts a hand over his open mouth, to cap the little aroused sounds pouring out.

"Quiet," Arthur commands, mouth brushing over the angle of Merlin's jaw close to his ear and biting once, a warning. "Someone may hear."

Merlin's breath is hot on Arthur's palm when he sighs, "Let them."

"Let them hear?" Arthur murmurs. With a little trouble, he splays Merlin's thighs and frees Merlin's length from his pants. He curls his hand around it, stamping down the realization of actually performing such a lewd act. Although he's far past stopping the other thing from overreacting, just south of his stomach. "You'd like that? If someone heard you mewling over being manhandled? Like a newborn kitten?" He jabs, meant to be joking.

But Merlin actually nods, mouthing at Arthur’s already damp palm. Arthur's busy hand slows its course on Merlin's cock. "You," Arthur swallows the squeak in his voice and starts again, "You'd really like that, wouldn't you? If someone were to hear."

"Nhn," Merlin nods once again, peeping at him through his eyelashes. He rolls his hips up, his cock working through the circle made by Arthur’s unmoving hand and his face scrunches up with another silent whimper.

The prince slides his hand from his servant’s mouth. Wet, parted lips drag over his palm and something like a full body blush spills over the prince, tingling low in his belly. He squeezes Merlin’s arousal and pulls up, drawing a pitiful, broken gasp out of the boy’s mouth and it bounces freely around the sunlit room.

He strokes Merlin this way, staking a leisurely pace to keep Merlin just before the edge. And to catalogue all the wonderful new sounds bubbling out of him. Arthur never realized he was this vocal, but he thinks maybe some of it is for his benefit. Especially when he calls out Arthur's name in a repetitive stream.

" _Ar_ thur-- Ah, ah, _Ar_ thur!"

He lets Merlin do half of the work, lifting himself to slick through Arthur's fist. The prince utilizes his now free hand to pry into his own breeches and wank himself in time to Merlin's erratic thrusts.

"Is that," Arthur grunts, "any way to address your future King?"

"N-no sire," Merlin cries out, addressing him formally. Then, "Oh God-- _sire_!"

Merlin arches high up off the bed when he comes, shooting white stripes over his stomach and Arthur's hand, wringing it out of him.

That’s all it takes to bring Arthur to his own release: watching Merlin come just for him. He can’t remember last having so good. It’s so good that a throaty groan pushes through his gritted teeth and his vision punches white as his stomach bottoms out. “So good,” he sighs, still jerking himself out, painting his own white stripes over his bedspread and part of Merlin's thigh. "So good."

Drained, Arthur turns and flops down next to Merlin. His servant’s milky neck is smarted with pink spots. While he works to quell his ragged breath, Merlin says lightly, "Perhaps I should neglect my responsibilities more often."

Arthur barks a breathless laugh, flicking his sticky hand on Merlin’s chest. “Shut up.”

“Mm, no, I’m really considering getting punished every day,” he continues. “Keep the discipline fresh in my head and all that.”

The prince scoffs and prods at his shoulder. “I’m sure a long day in the stocks would do a fine job with that.”

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**Author's Note:**

> Follow [me](http://calamity-annie.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for more fun, and thanks for reading.


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